More than we Imagined
by dazedkitten
Summary: Ch 12 up! Marriage Law, but of a different flavour. Ron wonders what life will be like now that Hermione has pushed this law through the Wizengamot - and since she no longer wants him. AU Epilogue. RWPP
1. Chapter 1

AN: A Marriage Law fic, but of a different flavour. Enjoy!

**_When dreams of the future become more than we imagined,_**

_**All our hopes expand beyond the horizons.**_

It was all Hermione's fault. Ron grumbled in the corner of the crowded room, looking around for people he recognised. A presence flopped on the couch next to him; looking, he saw his sister.

"You get sucked into this as well?" he asked her. She nodded glumly.

"Don't know why she thinks this will work. But, hey, she's smart and her logic's alright. Just don't know if any of us will actually gel."

Ron snorted. "When she blew me off, I was pretty sure she had her eye set on someone… And now I find out that, no, she didn't… she just had this hopeless need to _redeem_ the entire Death Eater population of England. I wouldn't be surprised if she takes up with _Marcus Flint_, the way she's been going on."

Ginny gagged. "Oh, Ron, that's gross… You want a gross picture? Imagine Harry and Millicent Bulstrode." She laughed when Ron spluttered his drink.

"Evil woman."

"If I was an evil woman, I wouldn't be… Well, ok, yes I would be here, but I'd be on the other side of the table."

Ron and Ginny subsided into silence, watching the people mill around them. There was polite conversation, subdued, and clear segregation caused by the long table that extended down the middle of the room. After long minutes – in which Ron swore to himself that he'd never be early for a meeting ever again – Hermione and Harry appeared on the platform at the front of the room.

"Hello, everyone. It's good to see you all here," Harry said. Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione had him under the thumb. Not that he'd ever date her. No, no, Harry knew better than that. "Hermione will read to you the Marriage Law again, and then we will allow mingling. Please – no hexing. If you can't keep it civil, move on to someone else. Thankyou!"

He'd better not be dating Hermione. That would keep him out of this pool of misery. Hermione cleared her throat, proceeded to read the piece of Legislation that she had single-handedly pushed through the Wizengamot.

"The Marriage Law is an effort to correct certain aberrations within Wizarding society. The trend of war, civil dissatisfaction and treason must be stopped. The most effective way of correcting this is to manage prejudices within marriage relationships to ensure that a balanced outlook is assured for any and all offspring produced. As such, testing will be put in place to measure prejudice. Effective immediately, all Marriages must be applied for through the Ministry of Magic. Any person achieving a score of 650 or above on the prejudice scale will be obligated to marry a person whose score is less than 450. Persons achieving a score under 650 will not be obligated to regulate their relationship choices, unless that person happens to have achieved a score of above 650. Upon receipt of an application for marriage, a thorough psychological examination will take place to ensure that no cheating is involved. If the analyst has any suspicion of tampering, the Ministry retains the right to halt marriage proceedings until the matter is resolved.

"Thankyou for your participation," Hermione said. "We do understand that this law changes a great many things for many of you. Please don't see this as an attack on you personally, but rather a wholehearted attempt to avoid strife such as the Wizarding world has seen over the past decades. We will be encouraging any person with a score under 450 to be open to meeting those with a score over 650, and it is with this intention that we will open the floor. I urge you, as Harry has also, please not to become violent: it is much easier to move on. Thankyou." Hermione stood back, waved her wand and the tables shortened and moved, filling with food and beverages. Music wafted in from somewhere.

"What does she think this is, a Hogwarts party or something?" Ron grumbled.

Ginny groused next to him on an entirely different theme. "What a stupid way to try and integrate society. Doesn't she understand that the foundation for a sound marriage is a basis of compatible beliefs? Or, should I say prejudices? Can you imagine a whole generation of witches and wizards growing up, knowing that their parents have been _forced_ together by some stupid Ministry regulation?"

"I don't know much about that, Gin," Ron muttered, "but I don't know what I'd talk about with Daphne Greengrass, let alone how I'd socialise with her friends… It'll be a disaster." The woman in question was leaning against a table, her attention riveted on Neville Longbottom. Her blonde hair seemed to make up for her otherwise boring face, and Neville seemed to be having a hard time keeping his composure. Ron wondered what on earth she was saying.

"Well, guess we'd better circulate and support our friend's law," Ginny said lightly, bouncing to her feet. Ron dragged himself up, wondering what had gotten into his sister. He watched her waltz across the room, greet a few people casually – as if this was, actually, Hogwarts – and finally watched her strike up a conversation with Draco Malfoy. Ron could feel himself becoming green at the gills. It was with a great effort that he stopped himself from rushing across the room to ask the girl what on earth she was doing.

Because, from the look of it, Malfoy was coming out of it the worse. A light flush was rising on his face, and he couldn't seem to figure out what to look at – her hair, her face, her chest… Forcing himself to be objective, Ron found himself chuckling at Malfoy's unease. Ginny was nobody to be toyed with.

"What's so funny?" The voice in his ear made him jump.

"Merlin, Parkinson, what are you doing sneaking up on me like that?"

She gave him an amused look. "I didn't do any sneaking. You were far too interested in watching whatever's going on over there to pay any attention to me. What is going on over there, by the way?" She peered down his line of sight.

After watching for a moment, she started laughing deep in her throat. "Oh, poor Drakie. She's got him wound up and he wasn't expecting it at all…"

"What, you're not going to go over and claim him?"

"To what use? I'm not allowed to marry him. And," she waved a hand at him, "we went over that ground too many times. We're no good for each other. I notice you're not charging in to look after your baby sister, though?"

Ron shrugged, stuck his hands in his pockets. "She seems to be looking after herself alright." He turned to face Parkinson. "Why are you talking to me, though?"

Parkinson gave him a half-smile. "Oh, turning on the charm, aren't you Weasley?" She laughed. "No, don't worry, I'd ask you the same question if you casually walked up to me and started chatting. I was just wandering around, looking for the white wine, and – lo and behold – right next to you. So, I thought, why not say hello? We've been instructed to be polite, and all." She inclined her head in the direction of the stage where Harry and Hermione were now conspicuously absent.

"Wonder where they went?" he mused.

"Oh, I'm sure they're far too important to be sucked into this marrying blood traitor business," she said with a flick of her hair. Ron frowned, began to say something, but she interrupted. "The blood traitors being us, Weasley, not you. You won the war, that's the way the history books are written. The good guys win; because the winners write the books and authorise the curriculum."

Ron mused on this, pouring a glass of wine for Parkinson and then one for himself as well. Might as well make the most of the amenities. If Harry and Hermione weren't going to participate, then he might as well make sure that he made sure they paid for it – even if it was in wine.

"A toast," he said, raising his glass to Parkinson.

"To what?"

"To… blood traitors," he said, carefully measuring her face as he said it.

Luckily, she chuckled. "And to pureblood trash," she added, raising her glass and chinking it against his.

Five hours later, Ron considered that he should stop drinking if he ever wanted to be able to stumble to his bed. He was slouched on a couch, with a few girls surrounding him. He supposed that the stories he was telling were funny, because they all giggled in the appropriate places (and occasionally in inappropriate places). The one next to him was feeding him grapes. He supposed that he might be in heaven.

Suddenly, however, the girls – one by one – got looks of terror on their faces and jumped up, made excuses and left. Ron was quite bemused by this, not quite able to discover why this phenomenon was occurring.

"Gah," Ginny said as she flopped next to her brother. "That was the most fun I've had in years."

"Did you scare off those girls?" He slurred.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry." She said unrepentantly. "Well, I'm off home. You need help apparating?"

"Nah," he said, "I'll use the floo, I think."

"That's a good idea. And drink some water," she said, peering into his bleary eyes. "I think you've overindulged." Ron, for some reason, thought that her phrasing was funny, and he was still giggling when she sighed and left.

But that couch was lonely on his own, and people were leaving the party in increasing numbers. He frowned petulantly, wobbled to his feet. He was having fun. Where was everyone going? Someone stumbled into him, grabbed an arm around his waist to keep balance. Ron found himself leaning on the person as much as they were leaning on him.

"Oh, Weasley," Parkinson said, "Strange to run into you again. Great wine, hey? Mmm… You apparating home?"

"Think I'd better not… I was having fun until my sister came and scared away all the girls…" He frowned.

"Hey, I'm a girl," she said, placing her free hand on her hip and trying to stand straight. She ended up stumbling for a moment before she caught herself on Ron again, who wobbled, then collapsed on the couch behind him taking Parkinson with him. This was all too funny, and they both giggled for long minutes.

"You fell over," Parkinson whispered, chuckling.

"So did you," he said, turning to look at her. He noticed that his face was actually quite close to hers.

"Are you trying to make free with my drunken person?" Parkinson gabbled out, crossing her eyes at him.

"Wouldn't think of it," he said, taking note of the smattering of freckles on the top of her upturned nose, the slight speckle of golden flecks in her dark eyes.

"Good, because I'm tired." She pulled her wand from somewhere and made the couch stretch out to a comfortable length to sleep on. Throwing an arm over his chest, she burrowed into his neck and promptly fell asleep.

Ron stared down at her for a moment in confusion before the alcohol got the better of him and he also fell into a deep sleep.

Ginny crept back, grinned fiercely and threw a blanket over the two. Then, she apparated home.


	2. Chapter 2

Ron woke with a throbbing head and a dead arm. Groaning, he tried to move, but there was something tangled in his arms, legs… No, no, not something: someone. Dark hair fanned over his chest, and her arm was thrown over his chest, her legs somehow clutched his. As he tried to figure out how on earth to extract himself, she began to wake.

"Oh, Merlin," she moaned, grabbing her head and rolling over away from him. "Tell me you've some hangover potion somewhere," she said.

"My head's as sore as yours, and none in sight. Hey, Parkinson… We didn't… you know, do anything last night did we?"

Her sense of humour seemed to be coming back, despite her hangover. "Think you can call me Pansy now we've slept together, Ron… And why are you so worried? Afraid you weren't up to par?" She wriggled closer to him, her grin overtaking her face.

Ron stared at her for a moment before realising that they were both still fully dressed. He shook his head, giving her a small smile in reply to her teasing. "Can we leave the playing til I'm not so sick?"

"That's permission, I take it?" she said, trailing teasing fingers down his arm. He gave her a bemused smile.

"Well, this is cosy…" Ginny said, walking up to the couch. "Here – thought you two might appreciate this," she handed over two vials of putrid purple liquid. "And I think you might want to clear out quickly; the Ministry elves have to clean this room and they're starting to look worried about this corner."

"This isn't mum's recipe, is it?" Ron asked, sitting up slowly.

Ginny shook her head. "No, I bought it on the way."

Pansy managed to gulp the potion down a full half-second before he did, but unfortunately that gave him no warning for the disgusting taste and brisk effect of the potion. "Gah!" Ron exhaled, "Liar!"

Ginny skipped back, out of arm's distance. "Well, you wouldn't have drunk it otherwise. You'd think you'd be glad I brought you some." She winked at the gagging Pansy – who gave her a death glare – then skipped away. "Take her out for breakfast, Ron; least you can do for taking advantage of her last night…" Then she was in the floo, spinning away.

"Who can eat after that?" Ron grumbled, feeling much better but not willing to concede defeat to his mischievous sister. Pansy, however, was sitting up, straightening her clothes and tidying her hair.

"Listen to your sister, Ron. Come on, I know a nice place…" Ron sighed and shook his head. They were ganging up on him, he was sure of it.

Sitting in the little shop, Ron poked at his food. "You know, P…" At her glare, he chose to call her by her first name, "Pansy, this is really odd."

She gave him a little smirk. "I know." She waved a fork. "So, when do we get married?"

Ron spluttered his coffee. "What?"

"Oh, come on," she said. "Don't start taking me seriously all of a sudden. Falling asleep on a couch with you and making you have breakfast with me isn't really the basis for a marriage. But that seems to be what your friend Granger's got her heart set on."

Ron frowned. "I'm sure Hermione's doing what she thinks is right."

"That was never in question." Pansy gave him a serious look. "But, really, this law is stupid. It's worse even than that society she started at school… what was that? SPEW? I mean, she was doing what she thought was right…"

Ron snickered. "Yeah, SPEW was pretty stupid." He gave the idea some thought. "You're right, though. Ginny was saying something about marriages being based on compatible beliefs, or some such, and how this was almost the exact opposite."

"Smart girl, that sister of yours," Pansy agreed. "So… When do we get married?"

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "Give over, Pansy. Marriage is a serious business in my family. And, as far as I know, you're just in it for the money."

Pansy giggled a little. "Alright, alright," she said. "Marriage was an ongoing joke amongst us purebloods at school – we knew that we'd really have no choice when it came down to it."

"Arranged marriage?" Ron stared.

"Yeah," Pansy waved it off. "But most of our parents died in the war or were put away afterwards…"

"How did you escape?" Ron asked, a dark note entering his voice. Fred had died, after all.

"I… Well, I was underage. And I didn't actually do anything unforgivable. Parental influence, the Wizengamot ruled, and capable of rehabilitation. So they handed me over to the Rehabilitation department for six months, and, voila." She deflated visibly, her shoulders slumping and her bright gaze dropping to her plate. "Can we please not talk about it? I was enjoying breakfast."

Ron felt guilt settle in his stomach. "Sorry," he said. "I just… I mean… Oh, I don't know what I mean. Sorry for bringing it up. Ah… what were you saying about marriage?"

Pansy gave him a half hearted smile. "Easy to see why you're not married already," she murmured, but before Ron could take offence, she kept going. "After the war, most of our parents were gone, and we no longer had to honour their wishes. It's been… what, three and a half years? And very few of us have married at all, frozen by decision it would seem."

"I still can't believe that your parents did the whole arranged marriage thing," Ron muttered. "And I know I'm not great at talking with girls, but be nice, ok?"

She waved off his glare. "How did Granger get away from you, anyway? I mean, she was all over you for years. I assume you finally noticed, because in all the papers after the war you two had that horrid lovey-dovey look… But, now you're stuck in with us over-650's?"

Ron grimaced. "I was enjoying my breakfast too, thanks. She just… got distant. Shrugged it off as overwork for a while, then she… She said it wasn't working anymore, and she was ending it. I've never made heads or tails of it. Obviously, being best friends for seven years wasn't a good enough foundation for a relationship either."

Pansy rubbed Ron's hand reassuringly across the table. "She's probably just swallowing her own tripe, going in for this marriage law business. After all, Draco is rather attractive."

Ron snorted. "Gin seems to think so, too. And if it came to a competition between them, Gin would win, hands down. She fights dirty."

"She's got older brothers," Pansy agreed. "And Draco's never been able to keep his hands off Potter's leftovers."

"Hey, that's my sister you're talking about," Ron glared. "She's not Harry's leavings. I'll have you know that she gave him the flick. After snogging him before we went horcrux hunting, I thought she'd be all over him when he came back… but she pretty much ignored him, went to work with George at the shop, and when Harry went begging after her a few months later, she told him where to stick it. I was pretty angry at the time, but…" Ron shrugged. He gave Pansy a panicked look. "Not that I want her to marry Malfoy, that is!"

She laughed. "Of course not. But watching anyone get the better of Draco is plenty of fun." She looked at the clock on the wall of the shop. "Oh, we'd better hurry. I've got to be at work in fifteen."

Ron groaned. "And I've got to be at training in half an hour… I'll have to face mum, when I go home to get my uniform, and who knows how long that'll take…"

Pansy gave Ron a strange look. "What do you think about meeting up for dinner some time next week?"

Ron blinked. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Pansy snickered. "Maybe. Actually, I was planning for any eventuality… I'm pretty sure that the Marriage law will end up with deadlines in it sometime, and I'd like to be prepared for it."

Ron was lost, but Pansy didn't explain. They stood, Ron gave her a cursory kiss on the cheek and he was surprised when she told the waiter to put the meal on her tab.

"See you sometime next week," she said, fluttering fingers at him from the floo, before stepping into the green flames.

Ron shook his head at the girl, then began to brace himself for one of his mum's tirades.

Surprisingly, Molly just smiled and said hello when he entered the kitchen. "Oh, Ginny already told me that you stayed at the Ministry, love. But, run along or you'll be late…"

Giddy with relief and somewhat suspicious about what Ginny would want in return, Ron jumped into his training uniform and sped out the 'floo again.


	3. Chapter 3

Ron fidgeted in his seat. Pansy had insisted on going somewhere 'worthwhile'; which, Ron quickly discovered, meant 'expensive'.

"Come on, Ron; you've been playing A-level Quidditch for a year and a half, and you've not discovered the joys of Quidditch wives? The high life? All sorts of deceit and intrigue and sex?" Pansy was astonished.

"Not really my scene, Pansy…" But as they nibbled entrées and sipped wine, Ron knew that he could really get used to eating expensive food. Even if he had to wear poncy clothes for the privilege. "What did you mean, by 'deadlines in the law', when you were leaving last week?"

Pansy swirled her wine in the glass. "I'm sure that Granger was doing what she thought was right. But… I've heard mutterings that the Wizengamot is going to amend the law. Granger would never think of it, and would never dream of enforcing it – she's too righteous for that." At Ron's glare, she clarified. "Righteous, in that she believes that putting the law in place is enough. But she's a bit naïve about how the world works, isn't she?" Ron had to agree with her. "Other members of the Wizengamot aren't so naïve, and now that the law's in place, it's easier to amend. It won't be long before us over-650's are forced to marry under-450's within a time limit. Because the Wizengamot won't allow us malcontents to simply remain single. That defeats the purpose of the law, after all."

Ron was amazed. "I never would have thought of it that way," he said. "But, then, I don't have a vested interest in this thing. How does having dinner with me fend that off, anyway?"

"I look like I'm complying," she said. "Draco and I and a few of the others discussed this law when it first came out. We ended up with two factions: those of us who wanted to make it work, and those of us who wanted to get rid of it. We ended up deciding to try to make it work as long as there are no timelines. When the deadlines come in – we fight it with all we have."

Ron frowned. "Why are you telling me this? Isn't this… some secret plot?"

Pansy giggled. "Far from it! I mean, we're not broadcasting to everyone, because some people would take the wrong message. But… We're letting it be known that we're willing to play nice as long as the law's not amended. Granger's made our life easier, actually," she said. "Most of us never expected to choose our own partners and this narrows down the field for us." She batted her eyes at Ron, "And I always dreamed of being a Quidditch wife."

Ron sighed melodramatically at her declaration, then narrowed his eyes. "Hang on, you've been thinking about who to pair yourself off with for months now? What, did you 'malcontents' get together and draw lots or something?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "What would it matter if we did? Just because arranged marriage – or drawing lots, or anything such – is arbitrary doesn't mean it doesn't work. My parents had an arranged marriage, and they were perfectly happy with one another."

"Who did they have you set up with, before..." Ron trailed off, not wanting to bring up the war again. Pansy tactfully ignored the reference.

"Theodore Nott, actually. He was always a bit weedy at school – Draco was much prettier. And… well, apart from the fact that Draco knew better than to push his luck too far; there was a certain immunity granted to whoever cast their lot in with the Malfoys. I actually considered petitioning my parents to change their plans at one point in time… I mean, Theo's a great guy. Kept right out of the war, actually. I think he's one of the few purebloods from school who kept his nose out and even scored under the 650 threshold. But… Draco had a lot going for him. Anyway," Pansy said decisively, flushing a little, "I'm talking to you like a girl, going on about this boy, that boy… Really, tell me to shut up if I'm boring you."

Ron shook his head. "I'd never tell you to shut up, Pansy. My mother trained me properly in how _not_ to talk to girls, and she'd clip me over the head if she heard me tell any female to shut up." He rubbed his ear in memory of the pain. Pansy giggled at him, but seemed honoured anyway. "I don't really need to hear about Malfoy, though. I mean… I know, he's supposed to be 'reformed' now, but… our families were raised with mutual distrust, I suppose."

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "That's the mildest way I've ever heard your family disagreement explained by someone involved. Even when Draco and I were discussing who had scored under 450 and who would be palatable… I think his expression – one of the mildest I've ever heard, too – was that it 'was just bloody like those Weasleys to be in the most awkward position, and couldn't they just leave his family alone, thankyou-very-much.'"

"Most awkward position?" Ron was amused, and rather glad that Malfoy hadn't decided to call off their family feud. Some things needed to stay familiar. That said, he was also glad that Malfoy didn't feel the need to be too vindictive. He didn't have the energy anymore to hate the blond the way he had at school.

"Oh, yes," Pansy said. "Right at the bottom of the scale. What did you score?"

Ron blinked. "I really don't know. I'm sure the results were sent to me, but I don't recall…"

Pansy chuckled. "Exactly. You got about 200. Your sister got about the same. Muggle loving freaks, the both of you," she said airily.

"Must have something to do with all the Muggle toys my dad finds to play with," he deadpanned, then smiled when Pansy giggled. It was gratifying to his ego to have a female giggle at all his jokes. If Hermione had been half as willing to be amused as Pansy was… Ron ended that thought before he finished it. Hermione had ended it, and he wasn't going back to her. Ever.

"Your family has always intrigued me, Ron," Pansy said, taking a long sip of her wine. "Your parents chose each other, and… well, they must enjoy each other's company, because they've had tons of kids…"

"That is a mental picture I really didn't need," Ron winced. "And I have 5 brothers…" He choked, then forced himself to continue. "I _had_ 5 brothers, and one sister. Seven of us in total."

Pansy held his hand across the table. "I heard that you lost a brother in the final battle – one of the twins, wasn't it? I'm really sorry." Ron searched her face for any sign that she was mocking him, but all he could see was sincerity. "You were all so close; I was jealous of that, back at school."

Ron smiled sadly. "We're all really different, though. And I always felt I had to live up to my older brothers' standards. I guess I'm getting over that. Slowly," he admitted. "Back at school, I would have traded some siblings for money… Though I would have been buggered if I'd been forced to choose which ones. But, after the war… We were all so torn apart by Fred's death, we clung together – even Percy, when before that he'd been trying so hard to be different from the rest of us. I wouldn't trade any of my family for all the money in the world."

"And the fact that you're earning good wages as a Quidditch player probably helps," Pansy interjected. Ron pulled a face, but agreed. "Us purebloods… we were mostly all from small families – Draco and Millie and Blaise and I are onlies, Daphne's got a younger sister, Theo's got a younger brother, Greg has two older brothers and Vincent has an older and younger sister – we tried to keep each other family."

"Then why did I only ever see you hanging off Draco?" Ron asked.

"Family, Ron. Not necessarily friends." She gave him a look that said he should understand.

Surprisingly, Ron found that he did.


	4. Chapter 4

Ron drank deeply from the beer that Harry had paid for and gave a deep exhalation of contentment.

"It's been too long since I've had a good beer."

Harry seemed amused. "Why not? Hermione's not around anymore to tell you off."

Ron shrugged. "Force of habit, I suppose. I don't really have anyone to go drinking with. I seem to recall that I haven't seen you for months."

Harry winced. "Yeah, sorry about that. The Department has thrown some involved cases into my lap, it's been all I can do to remember to eat."

"I notice Hermione dragged you out to endorse her new law, though?"

"Dragged is the right word," Harry agreed. "I was working the evening shift, and she barges in, informs me that I'm coming with her and threatened to hex me if I didn't. For some reason she thought that if I endorsed the law people would be more inclined to participate. I don't quite get it, mind you. I mean, I killed the maniac that most of their parents had agreed with if not openly followed…" Harry shrugged.

Ron shrugged with him. "Mental, that girl. I haven't seen her for ages, though."

Harry frowned. "No, neither have I. I heard a rumour in the Department that she's working on some research project. She's probably face-down in a book, right now."

They shared a laugh at the memory of Hermione buried in her research. "So," Ron continued. "What brings you out of the woodwork?"

Harry smiled. "I just thought I'd tell you that I've met someone." Ron indicated that he should go on. "Last week, I got a letter from the Greengrasses, asking if I'd like to be introduced to their daughter."

"What, Daphne?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "Her younger sister, Astoria. Ron, I think I'm in love."

"I take it you met her, then? You're not just in love with her parents for offering to let you meet her?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I met her. She's… Absolutely gorgeous. Blonde, stunning and… petite, I guess you'd call it."

"Harry, mate; I've got news for you: that's not love, that's lust."

"No, really Ron. She's the most amazing girl I've met. She's lovely. Quiet and kind and sweet. I'm meeting her again next weekend."

Ron took in this information. "You know, Harry," he continued after a moment. "Her parents are only considering you because you scored under 450."

"What?"

"Really," Ron said.

"But… She's so… I don't know, gorgeous – inside and out."

"I'm not questioning that, Harry. But, the truth of the matter is, most purebloods scored over 650."

"Well, you didn't!"

"No, but my dad's obsessed with muggle stuff… and Hermione's a muggle-born, and she changed lots of my thinking about muggles. I mean, really, Harry. You grew up with muggles, but the only time I've ever _talked_ to muggles is when I met Hermione's parents."

"Truly?" Harry seemed astounded.

"Yeah. We just don't have anything to do with them. And they don't have magic. My dad's fascinated by them, but… it took him a while to realise that muggles are people too. I know, that sounds stupid, but… we never talk to them. We see them in the distance, occasionally. But most purebloods have never talked to a muggle. Most never will. It's not so hard to change from ignorance to fear, mate. And then from fear to hatred. Or from ignorance to supremacy to hatred."

Harry took this in staring into his glass of beer. "So, you think I shouldn't see her?"

"Don't be stupid, Harry. Of course you should. I just thought I should tell you before you find out later that her parents are interested in matching her up with you because of Hermione's stupid law."

"So… you think it's all her parents?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry, she's a nice girl, or so you've told me. She'll get a say. But most pureblood families still practice arranged marriage, or so I've recently discovered."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. At that stupid party thing I bumped into Pansy Parkinson. Don't pull that face, she was perfectly nice. We got to talking, and she told me that most of the purebloods haven't married yet because they're having a hard time choosing. Because their parents were going to do all the choosing for them."

"I did always wonder why so many of the Slytherins were still single. I suppose I could have looked into it; I just assumed that they were all nasty people and nobody wanted to spend their lives with them. But… that does make sense. So… How often have you seen Parkinson?" Harry asked, mischief in his eyes.

"Push over, Harry. None of your business."

"I thought so. I won't say anything. If she's being civil and you can stand her, then go for it."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're worried about what your parents will say?"

"And the rest of my family. I mean, I've seen her twice. But… Hermione's law doesn't leave a lot of room, does it?"

"No. No, it doesn't."

"Have you heard any whispers that the Wizengamot is going to amend the law?" Ron asked.

Harry blinked. "Actually, I think I have. I hadn't given it much thought until you mentioned it. Something about… timelines? Deadlines? Something like that."

"Well, better hope your little Astoria is as nice as she seems, because if those amendments get made, you'll be married before you can blink."

"What?"

"Think, Harry. Deadlines in the law. The over 650's will be given a deadline to marry by."

"That's… That's barbaric!"

"I know. Pansy said that her friends would participate with this law unless it was amended, and if it was, they'd fight it with all they had."

Harry looked worried. "I hadn't thought of it. I thought that it was just one of Hermione's pet projects, and that she'd… I don't know, make the world a better place. But…"

"Yeah, I know. I don't think Hermione would have even considered putting deadlines in. But other people will – and have, it seems."

"Yeah."

Their worried silence continued for a while before they talked of lighter matters.


	5. Chapter 5

Ginny flopped onto Ron's bed, startling him awake.

"Come on, Ron; you're taking me shopping today."

"Am not," he groaned, hugging his pillow and trying to pretend that his sister was a bad dream.

She grabbed his blankets, pulled them clean off his bed and opened the curtains to let the bright sunlight in. "Are too," she said. "Unless you want me to tell mum…"

"Merlin, Ginny, can't you at least give me warning before you decide to destroy my perfectly good sleep? You couldn't have told me, say, yesterday?"

"That would give you time to think up an excuse. Come on, get dressed."

"Bloody morning people," he grumbled as he fossicked through his drawer for clean clothes. It really was no use arguing with Ginny; she always got what she wanted, and he'd rather escape with as little damage done to his ego and public image as possible than suffer the consequences of fighting back. "Find me some socks?"

Ginny chucked a pair at his head, smiling as they bounced off his forehead as he sat up. "I'm going out to dinner with Draco Malfoy and I don't have a _thing_ to wear."

"With _Malfoy_?" Ron squeaked. Ginny gave him a superior smile. "Couldn't you have picked… I don't know, _anyone_ else?"

"That, brother mine, would not be nearly as much fun. Have I mentioned anything about you going out with Pansy Parkinson? No? Well, don't ruin my fun, then." And with a flip of her hair she pushed him before her down the stairs.

And, after a hurried breakfast Ginny dragged Ron to the floo. "Madam Malkin's first," she instructed her brother, pushing him into the fireplace. He sighed and used the green powder.

A lurching moment later, Ron stepped out at Madam Malkin's. The shop assistant fluttered over him for a moment until Ginny stepped through. The woman diverted her attentions immediately.

"Oh, Miss Weasley! What a pleasure to see you here! What can we do for you today?"

Ron was hard pressed to tell if this show was genuine flattery or a genuine imitation. Ginny seemed to take whatever it was in her stride. "It's my pleasure to shop here," she announced. "I'm visiting Venticue's for dinner tomorrow, and I need an outfit. Something… long, I think."

And with this rather vague instruction, the woman showed Ginny into a changing room and began to pile clothes in for her to try. Gin would step out to show her brother, take a look at his face as he told her she looked great, then frown, step back in and try another dress on. Ron got bored quickly. The shop assistant didn't take much notice of him, lavishing her attention on Ginny instead. Ginny, for her part, wouldn't tell him what she wanted him to say or what she was looking for. She emerged in dresses of every imaginable colour – and a few unimaginable ones, besides – of every variety of material in every cut, arrangement and design. Ron sighed.

"What?" Ginny demanded at his sigh.

"I'm bored, Gin."

Ginny looked down at the dress she was wearing. It was nice. They'd all been nice. "You're right," she said. "I'm so sorry," she directed at the shop assistant, "but there just doesn't seem there is the right garment for me here. I think I'll go to Maybell's down the street…"

"Now, now, Miss, there's no need to do that… what about this dress?" The assistant almost pushed Ginny back into the changing room.

Three dresses later ("Brand new line, not even on the shelves yet…"), Ginny found the dress she wanted. She stepped out of the dressing room and watched Ron's eyes bulge and his face pale. "I'll take this one," she said before Ron could find his voice. "And the black shoes over there – yes, the stilettos. The stockings with the pattern… The matching clutch. That will be all. Please have the items and the bill sent to my house directly." She was into her own clothes in a flash and when Ron was just managing to choke out something about the dress being highly inappropriate they waltzed out the front door.

"Gin, there's no way you're wearing that dress to see Malfoy," Ron declared. Ginny pulled him down the street to a jeweller.

"Ron, that is exactly the response I want. So, that's the perfect dress. Come on. Jewellery next."

Ron tried to scrub the image of his sister – all freckles and red hair, tightly wrapped in the black and green fabric – from his memory. For being a full length dress, there was an indecent lack of material: more split than skirt, more cleavage than coverage. Now she was scanning expensive necklaces.

When Ron finally sat down – in a non-descript café for lunch – he was more thoroughly exhausted than if he'd played a full game of Quidditch. "I think you spent more than your yearly income, Gin."

She grinned. "Maybe. But it was worth it. He'll hear I've been shopping up a storm and he'll be terrified."

"So… You're not actually wearing any of that stuff?"

"Of course I am. I got Malfoy to beg me to dinner, and my condition was that he paid my expenses."

Ron gaped. "You mean… You're spending Malfoy's money?! Merlin, Ginny, remind me never to get on your bad side…"

"Oh, don't worry Ron. You've nothing to worry about." She gave him an unsettling smile. "You're well trained, after all." Ron grimaced. It was probably true. "But… What have you been getting up to with Pansy?"

Ron sat up. "Just talking," he said. "I'm well-trained, didn't you say? Actually, most of our talk has been about this law."

"Really? What's she got to say about it?"

He shrugged. "That she doesn't mind that much, that the purebloods she's friends with were all set up for arranged marriages anyway so they're used to the idea. But if the Wizengamot amend the law they'll fight it with all they have."

"Change it? As in, those whispers of contracts I've been hearing?"

"Contracts? No, the whispers I've heard have been about deadlines."

"Ah. Yes, that was last week's whisper." Ginny nodded. "I think that someone in the back of the Ministry is keeping up with public opinion on these things. Deadlines are reasonably unpopular, but they'll probably pop up – the whole point of the bill is to assimilate the…"

"Malcontents?"

"Malcontents into society. They won't allow them to simmer on the sidelines. But it'll take a lot of work for the Ministry to push that amendment through the Wizengamot. Most people aren't to flash on them. But contracts…"

"What about these contracts?"

Ginny sighed. "The idea is that upstanding citizens – such as you or I, for example; or probably anyone who scored under 450 – can put a contract on a… malcontent. A marriage contract, with whatever conditions we prefer. The conditions most likely to appear would be bans on dark arts, monetary restrictions… Whatever the imagination can dream up. The… malcontents would have very little say over those conditions. And, for uncontested contracts, they'd be enforced by the Ministry within a time frame."

Ron winced. "That's… Just insane enough to get passed, I reckon."

"That's my thought too. Most people want to 'get back at' the people who apparently 'got off' after the war. And it's just… nasty enough, but in the spirit of the law. But," Ginny said, "Things like this take time to get passed in to law, even if they are universally accepted. And I, for one, don't accept any amendment to that law."

Ron shook his head in agreement. "But… Gin… Really, did you have to go after Malfoy?"

Ginny gave him a sly smile and stayed silent.


	6. Chapter 6

Pansy lounged in the deep couch with her cocktail. Ron sat down with her, setting his pint of bitter down on the table.

"Did you know that Harry got propositioned by the Greengrasses?" Ron asked. Pansy gave him a small smile.

"Oh, they are quick movers, aren't they?" She said, mostly to herself. "Which girl did they suggest? Astoria, probably?"

"Yeah, and Harry's bowled over."

"As he would be, that girl's a stunner. She was slated for Draco, actually, before this law came up."

"Seriously?" Ron exclaimed.

"Yes, Mr and Mrs Greengrass have some weight to throw around," she said respectfully. "They hold the titles to two of the most enchanted woods in England, and do a huge trade in potions ingredients, fairy dust and wand cores… And they kept their noses reasonably clean in the recent unpleasantness. But, on the stupid prejudice test they scored as high as the rest of us. So, if they can't get the Malfoy name, then the 'saviour of the wizarding world' is probably as good as."

Ron nodded. "Harry was shocked when I told him the only reason he was approached was because of this law."

Pansy snickered. "Poor Potter, how did he take that?"

"He was horrified, wanted to know if he should keep seeing her."

"Silly boy," Pansy said. Harry seemed to be shrinking in her estimation. "I hope you told him to go for it. That's some alliance – for both parties."

"Yeah, I told him to keep seeing her." Ron gave Pansy a strange look. "When you said that you and your friends got together and talked about who you should match up with… You did that strategically, didn't you?"

"Of course," Pansy said, finishing her cocktail. "Did you think that we would just blithely walk into any old relationship? We know how to make alliances, if not love-matches."

"So, you're just seeing me because I'm strategic?"

Pansy sighed. "Ron, really. I chose you for several reasons, one of which being your family's reputation and standing with the Ministry, yes."

"And you just assumed that you could make me like you?" Ron was quite put out, though he couldn't quite pin down why. It was so… manipulative.

"Ron, don't tell me you believe any of that 'there's only one person out there in the whole universe for me' trollop. I chose to get to know you. I could have made you fall in love with me – or fall into bed with me – if I'd chosen that. But, what I really want is a friend."

"Oh, I'm so easily manipulated, am I? All you want is a friend. Yeah, right. What you want is someone to come along and make this inconvenient law just go away. You want to use me then toss me away." Ron stood. "Well, good luck, Pansy. Hope I don't see you round." And he left.

Pansy gaped and just watched him go. What had she said? His little tirade certainly hadn't been anything compared to the outbursts she'd seen at school, but the hurt underneath his words had been deep. She was at a loss.

She needed advice.

A quick floo call brought help. Ginny stepped out of the fireplace at Pansy's flat, watching as the dark-haired woman got changed into house clothes.

"Ginny, I don't know what I did, but your brother's gone mad. He just… got upset, for no reason I could understand, and left." Pansy could feel the horror of helplessness bearing down on her and she threw herself into the other woman's arms to try and fend it off.

Ginny, for her part, was calm. She patted Pansy on the back until the woman had caught her breath again. "Sit down, Pansy. Tell me what happened." As Pansy related the conversation, Ginny nodded. "So, you told him that you had chosen him cold, had manoeuvred your way into his life, and didn't want anything more than a friendship."

"Well, not in that many words…" Pansy sniffed, looked appalled at herself and fished out a handkerchief to dab at her nose more appropriately. "I didn't act any different to him than I do to any of my friends."

Ginny nodded. "Your pseudo-family. Who have known you forever. Pansy, he likes you."

Pansy blinked. "He what?"

"He likes you. He enjoys spending time with you. And he wants to be more than friends."

"Oh," she said, dabbing at her nose. "But… I didn't mean… I didn't do anything…"

"Pansy, you don't need to do anything except be yourself for someone to like you. In fact, for someone like Ron, being normal is better than trying to seduce him. He's too thick to take a hint, and gets intimidated easily."

"And I made him feel a fool for liking me. Oh, Merlin, Ginny, what do I do now? Not only do we need the alliance, but… Circe help me, I like him too."

Ginny held the dark-haired woman while she cried. After long minutes, she composed herself.

"Is it irreparable?" Pansy asked quietly.

"Hardly," Ginny said. "I'll tell him that he made you cry, and he'll feel like an arse. But you'd better make some declaration of some sort, because he's almost as stubborn as I am and far less confident and he won't make the first move."

"But… But… What do I say?"

"The truth?"

"All of it?"

"Of course not. Don't be silly. But tell him that you were only hoping for friendship, but that you've discovered that you like him more than that. Or words to that effect. Make up some reasons why you chose him."

Pansy sniffed. "I don't need to make up reasons," she said. Ginny seemed surprised.

"Really? You would have chosen him anyway, despite the law?"

"Well, no. But mostly because I move in different circles and never would have had a chance anyway. He has always fascinated me, though."

"Pansy, you continually surprise me." Ginny smiled.

Sitting up straight, Pansy wiped her eyes and took note of the redhead sitting next to her. "How did your dinner with Draco go on Friday?"

Ginny grinned. "Perfectly. He's besotted."

"Do you think you can manage him in the long term, though? He's… got a powerful personality."

She snorted. "That's one way to put it. Yes, I can manage him. How are the others going?"

"I think Blaise has taken up the slack – he's pursuing the Lovegood girl. Draco had his eye on her, you know?"

"I did get that out of him. Who was Blaise supposed to go with?"

"The Hufflepuff… Abbott? But Lovegood's confusing him much more successfully. He can't get a fix on her. Daphne is doing well with Longbottom, Millie is still considering. None of us want to push her, in case she pushes back. She might make a pass at Finch-Fletchly, though. He's just weedy enough to not threaten her."

Ginny nodded. "Good. Keep things moving on that line, then. I'll keep making in-roads at the Ministry – Percy's being really helpful."

"The Greengrasses have offered Astoria to Potter."

Ginny stopped, stared at Pansy. The redhead wilted for a moment. Then she squared her shoulders. "That's to be expected, I suppose." But her voice was weak. Pansy put an arm around the other woman's shoulders. "Merlin, it's so stupid. I was the one that got rid of him, but…"

"I know. I'm glad you're looking after Draco or I'd have to kick your arse. No, really. I'm quite fond of him, even though he treated me like dirt. If it's any consolation, Astoria's a sweetheart. A wimp, but a sweetheart."

"And stunning, from memory."

"Yes, that too. She was slated to go to Draco, which made me insanely jealous once or twice. Potter will be happy."

Ginny sighed. "I suppose so. Guess I'll have to work properly on Draco, then."

"Aren't you already?"

"Yes… but besotted isn't enough. I need him completely in love with me."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Take your own medicine, then. Be yourself, as well as putting all your effort into seduction."

"That's harder."

"I know."


	7. Chapter 7

"Ron, what the hell did you do?"

Ron jumped. He was slumped in the armchair beside the fireplace. "What did I do?" Ginny stood in front of him.

"I just got a distress call from Parkinson. She was a mess, crying all over the place. She wanted me to explain why you'd gone off your tree at her when all she'd done was be civil." Ginny didn't look happy.

"I… I don't know. She was openly admitting to manipulating me, and then she said she just wanted to be friends…" Ron had been moping in the chair by the fire for hours now, and he still didn't understand why he'd gone off like that.

Ginny's face softened. "Oh, Ron. You're a nincompoop, you know? When are you going to tell her that you like her?"

"I what?"

"You like her. You want to spend the rest of your life with her. Have her babies. All that rot."

Ron sat up. "I do not like her. She's a Slytherin. She's sneaky… She's got a nasty sense of humour. She's got freckles on her nose. Shit, I do like her. Merlin, what do I do now? She doesn't like me at all, she just wants a friend."

"So be her friend. Let her figure out if she likes you too, then do something about it."

Ron grimaced. "It sounds so much easier when you say it."

"The benefits of giving advice." There was a sadness in Ginny's face, but when Ron asked about it, she shook her head. "I'm just realising that Harry's really gone."

"Is that going to drive you into Malfoy's arms?"

Ginny gave Ron a sad look. "Ron, did you really think I was playing?" At Ron's startled look, she gave him a wry smile. "I want to stop the amendments of this law too, Ron. It won't be long before the Ministry and the Wizengamot take away all our freedom and start making all the choices for us. All of us. We need to stop this law before we trade away our souls. And they won't get rid of the law until the prime movers are married. Prime mover number one? Malfoy."

"That's very… honourable of you, Gin. But do you really have to sacrifice yourself on the altar of Malfoy to do it?"

Ginny sat on the arm of the chair. "Ron, I'm not sacrificing myself. He's actually not bad company. I… I just always thought that Harry would take up the challenge and chase me. He put more effort into chasing horcruxes than he ever did into me. I wanted to feel important. But he didn't get it. And Parkinson told me that the Greengrasses have foisted Astoria off on him… And I've been doing all the chasing of Draco, as well. I…"

Ron pulled his sister into his lap. "Gin, you deserve the best. You really do. If you don't want to chase Malfoy, then don't. Harry's an idiot for letting you get away. I know this law's ridiculous, and we'll fight it. But you don't need to be miserable."

Ginny relaxed into her brother's arms and let herself be comforted. "Thanks, Ron."

After a few minutes, Ginny got up and went to bed. Ron, despite having training the next day, kept staring at the fire in the grate.

In the morning, he woke freezing and sore. The fire had gone out, and he was still sitting in the armchair. Groaning, he worked the kinks out of his muscles and rushed off to training.

There was a letter waiting for him when he got home that evening. He could tell that his mother had been curious all day by the way she avoided looking at him when he went to take the letter off the table. He considered it for a moment, but he could see the way his mum was looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He wondered what spells she'd used to try and get the contents out of it before he got home.

He took the letter up to his room. He knew it was from Pansy. He turned it over and over again in his hands with indecision, guilt and fear weighing in his stomach. Finally, he sighed and opened it.

_Ron_, the letter said, _Gosh, I'm sorry for last night. You bring out all the candidness in me, and I sometimes forget that I'm not the most tactful person in the world. I don't know exactly what I said to tip you off like that, but I'd really like to work it out. Let me take you out on Friday? Pansy._

Ron searched the letter again and again for clues about what the woman was thinking, but after the third time he gave up. He'd see her; of course he'd see her. But he had no idea what to expect. With a sigh, he confessed to himself that he'd never understand women.


	8. Chapter 8

Ron descended down the stairs on Friday evening and was thoroughly shocked to see Pansy seated in the living room with his parents. She was chatting amiably with his dad; his mum was watching absently, deep in thought. Ron winced and wondered if she was planning his wedding already.

Hence, it was his mum who spotted him first. "Ron," she said brightly. "Miss Parkinson was just saying that she is taking you to dinner tonight?"

"Ah, yeah. Hi Pansy," he said, kissing her on the cheek in greeting. She smiled up at him.

"Hi Ron. I know that I sent you the address of the restaurant, but I decided to make up an excuse to meet your family," she gave Arthur a winning smile.

"You needn't make an excuse, dear," Molly said from her chair, "you're always welcome. We keep an open house here, there's always plenty of everything to go around – food, company, room…"

Pansy smiled warmly. "Thankyou so much, Mrs Weasley. It's such an honour, truly. I've always been envious of the closeness of your family, and it's the greatest privilege to be invited in to that. I'd love to visit again some time soon, because unfortunately our reservation is for seven."

His parents stood to see them off. When they arrived at the relative privacy of the restaurant, Ron turned to Pansy to ask her about turning up at his house, but the look on her face stopped him. They sat quietly at the table for a few long minutes before Pansy said anything. Ron – seeing that look on her face – wasn't going to start any conversation.

"I really do like you, Ron," she said quietly. He took her hand in his over the table. "We… My friends and I, that is – don't have a romantic view of life. We make plans and work toward our goals, regardless of our personal happiness. Managing – or getting rid of – this law is our primary goal right now, and… none of us expected to find much happiness in the process. Working relationships, perhaps. Friendships, if we were lucky. And I really thought I was lucky, because I enjoy your company very much. I've never hoped for anything more." She looked down, her hair falling in front of her face and obscuring his view.

Ron squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Pansy. I'm sorry that my friend introduced this law, but I'm not sorry that it's brought me to you. I'll help you any way I can to get rid of this law, but, I'm sorry to tell you, I don't think you'll get rid of me that easily. Because I enjoy your company too, and I don't think I'm going to settle for just being friends."

Pansy lifted her head suddenly and met his eyes. "Truly?"

"Yes," he said, and – almost instantly – Pansy was in his lap, her arms around his neck, her face buried into his shoulder.

"Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou," she sobbed, snuggling to get closer. Ron held her tightly, rested his cheek against her hair. "I was so scared I'd lost you forever, without ever getting you in the first place. I'm sorry for surprising you and turning up at your house today, but… I couldn't make it easy for you to get rid of me."

Ron chuckled. "No fear about that now – mum'll keep at me until I get you round at least once a week. She's probably planning the wedding already."

Pansy turned her head and let her lips rest on the bare skin of his neck. "Well, don't lets disappoint them," she said, quietly, smiling as she felt Ron's skin prickle into goose bumps. Ron's arms tightened reflexively around her as his body leapt to reaction.

"If you keep doing that, the wedding'll be tomorrow," he hissed through clenched teeth. Pansy laughed softly, pulling back to look at his face. "Please," he said softly. "Let's do this properly."

Pansy looked up into his eyes, saw the honesty and desire there, and nodded. She stood, straightened her dress and sat back down on her chair. "Well, let's start with entrées then, shall we?"

Ron arrived back at home to see both his parents sitting in the kitchen, waiting for him. Dread lurched in his stomach.

"Ron, darling, come in here," his mum said, and so he did. Seated, he waited to hear what his parents were going to say.

"Ron," his dad said, "we know that Miss Parkinson scored above 650 on the prejudice test. Are you aware of that?"

"Yes, dad," Ron said, internally sighing with relief. "I met her at the party-thing Hermione organised."

"We just want to make sure that you're not being taken advantage of, dear," his mum said worriedly. "She seems nice, but anyone can put on a show. We don't want you to rush into things and then find out later that it's not going to work."

"I know, mum," Ron said. "And, like Ginny said to me at the party, solid relationships are based on compatible beliefs – or prejudices. Pansy and I are going to take the long road. I want a marriage that works, not one of convenience or one that falls apart three weeks in like cheap furniture. That said, though, the test measures beliefs on one subject – Muggles. And there's much more to life than muggles."

His parents nodded. "When will you bring her around for dinner, dear?" His mother asked.

"Probably next Thursday. I've got a game on Saturday as well; would you like to come and keep Pansy company?"

"That'd be lovely," his dad said. "I never did finish explaining elektrikery to her."

Ron rolled his eyes and went to bed.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco Malfoy sat on Pansy's couch, confusion spread openly on his face. "I just don't understand," he complained. "I didn't do anything. She just… hasn't written to me. It's like she's disappeared. I don't know what to do."

Pansy mused for a moment, put the cup of tea in front of Draco. He took it gratefully. "A month ago, I would have told you to get over it, move on to someone else. But…"

"Ginny's too special."

"Exactly. I made the mistake of telling her, last Friday, that Astoria's been given to Potter."

Draco shrugged. "So what?"

Pansy shook her head at her friend. "You're as dense as they come, Draco. She's carried a torch for the weedy hero her whole life."

"Why isn't she married to him then?" Draco demanded.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Ron said that she wanted to feel important – Potter had just spent long months hunting down the pieces of Voldemort's soul. And she wanted to be pursued, too. So she backed off, and Potter left her alone. Now that the Greengrasses have got their eyes on him, he won't escape. She's probably feeling alone again."

"I'm better than Potter ever was," Draco hissed. "Why's she ignoring me now?"

Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. "She's been pushing you the whole way, Draco. Everything's been at her initiation. Why don't you go after her?"

Draco pulled his head in; his whole body became defensive. "There's this family feud going on…"

"Don't be an idiot, Draco," Pansy interrupted forcefully. Draco stared at her like he'd never seen her before. "If you want her, go after her. Don't sit here moping to me, whinging that your families don't get along. They'll never get along if _you don't make an effort!_"

Draco sat in silence, staring at Pansy for ages.

"Weasley's really rubbing off on you, Pansy," he said at last. "It's good to see. You're right, of course."

"You'll just have to swallow some pride. And that's the most bitter mouthful for you."

"Come on, Pansy. Don't labour the point."

"No, really, Draco. You're stubborn to the point of mulishness, but it's your pride that will keep making you suffer." She put her teacup down forcefully, making a loud clash on her saucer. "She works at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes with her brother, she lives at home at the Burrow in Ottery St Catchpole, you can send her an owl anywhere. _Make an effort_."

Draco stared down at his saucer, his shoulders hunched. Pansy picked up her cup again – she hadn't chipped it, that was good to see – and drank. Draco's thoughts were loud, but she let him think them. Eventually, he calmed down, his shoulders settling. He met her eyes. "Pansy, the next time someone I dislike needs advice, I'm going to send them to you. You're right, though. All I want to do is hide, pretend that it's not important and that I'll find someone else. But… I won't. Not like her. And she deserves to know that." He stood. "Thankyou, Pansy," he said as he kissed her cheek and left.

Pansy sighed and began to clean up. Ginny had come through her floo at ten o'clock the night before, crying that Draco didn't care about her at all. Upon hearing the other woman's reasoning, she'd been sympathetic but not optimistic about her chances of getting Draco to chase her. It had been late – or early? – when the redhead had finally gone home. Pansy sighed again and shook her head, wishing that Draco had seen something in her to pursue. But those days were long past, and she had a Quidditch match to get to.

The benefit of being invited by the Keeper was that they sat in a box instead of freezing in the stands. Pansy wasn't avid about Quidditch, but she wrapped the Falmouth Falcons scarf around her neck anyway. Molly and Arthur were there – they had insisted that she call them by their first names at dinner on Thursday – and they waved her over to the seat they had saved for her.

"Good, good," Molly clucked. "Now, Pansy, hot chocolate?"

Pansy smiled and took the mug. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "I know that Ron lives for Quidditch, but sitting alone in the stands is a bit much for me."

"You're one better than me," Molly said. "I can't even understand the game half the time. But the kids have always enjoyed it. And so does Arthur," she smiled.

Then the game began. They were playing the Arrows, who were currently sitting fourth on the ladder. Pansy wasn't expecting the Falcons to win; but from the beginning it was clear that the Arrows weren't up to form. Their chasers made a surprising number of fumbles, and Ron was the star of the day – only two of their attempts made it through the hoops. Eventually, the Arrows' seeker caught the snitch, but not even that could save them from defeat. Pansy stood in her seat and cheered loudly at the final scoreline.

After the game, Ron came and collected Pansy from his parents. "We've got a victory party tonight – rapidly organised, since we weren't expecting to win."

"Go ahead, dear," Molly said smiling broadly. Arthur gave Ron an enthusiastic congratulatory handshake, and Pansy bestowed parting hugs on the older couple. "We'll see you next Thursday, Pansy."

Pansy smiled. "I wouldn't miss it. Those fellyfones sound interesting." Molly rolled her eyes in good humour, and Arthur grinned.

The party was noisy, and Ron and his teammates went over play and play… After half an hour, Pansy began making smart comments about each verbal replay; after another fifteen minutes, Ron's teammates were laughing and beginning to talk about other topics: the copious amounts of alcohol they were consuming helped as well.

Surprisingly, when they stumbled out into the street hours later, neither Ron nor Pansy was so inebriated that they couldn't apparate. "Let's walk a while," Pansy said, linking her arm through Ron's.

They strolled down the dark street, breathing puffs of steam. "I never imagined I could be this… happy," she said, stopping under a street lamp.

Ron smiled down at her. "Thanks for putting up with my mates, back there. You are utterly amazing, do you know that?"

Pansy shook her head in amusement. She slid her arms around his waist. "Nowhere near as amazing as the man who only let two goals through today. You were on fire," she smiled up at him.

Ron pulled her closer, pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "You are incredibly good for my ego," he said.

Tipping her head up, she cupped his face with her hand. "Don't worry, I'll help you deflate it in time," she said, pulling his face down closer to hers. Nose to nose, Ron gazed into her dark, gold-flecked eyes.

"I'm sure you will," he breathed, touching his lips to hers. She responded heartily, and Ron found himself holding her waist to stay upright as all sense of balance deserted him. He had no idea how long they stood there, illuminated against the dark, joined at the mouth. It was a long time, however, because when they finally parted and he pulled Pansy to his chest again his feet were made of ice and he couldn't feel his ears.

"Ron, I can't feel my legs anymore," Pansy said, looking up into his face. Ron chuckled.

"I think my feet are made of ice. Here, I'll apparate you home."

"Thankyou." There was a loud noise as they moved instantaneously from London to the suburbs. "Ron…" She looked up at him, an expression on her face that made him catch his breath. "Would you kiss me again? Please?"

It was late when Ron got home.


	10. Chapter 10

Ron could hear Ginny sniffling through the walls. One of the things he had always found frustrating about his house was that, no matter how many charms were cast on the walls, it was only a matter of time before they let sound through like paper. The sniffling turned to sobs, muffled somewhat. Crying into her pillow, he assumed. Circe, if Malfoy had made her cry, he was going to go and pound the prat. After another five minutes of listening to his sister weeping, he got up and went to her door.

"Gin, can I come in?"

A loud sniff, then, "Don't worry about it. Just go to sleep."

Ron rolled his eyes and opened the door. Ginny was on her bed, curled up around her pillow. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her hair was a mess. Ron sat next to her. "What's going on?"

Ginny grimaced. "Do I need to recast my charms again?"

"Yes. Now stop stalling."

She sighed. "I… I suppose I'll tell you if you promise not to go off your tree and disown me. Ok?"

Ron frowned. "Ok," he said after a moment. This was going to be about Malfoy, he just knew it.

"From the moment I heard about this law of Hermione's I've been working to stop it," she said matter-of-factly. "I figured that I needed an ally, so I picked Pansy. We've been working on getting this law repealed for nearly a year now. We… We discussed how we were going to do it. We figured that the dissidents would need strong support from credible sources, so we matched people up. Everything was working so well… The Wizengamot are being stalled by our tactics…" she broke off into sobs again.

Ron felt rather helpless watching his sister cry, but knew better than to try and comfort her. She tended to use her elbows to gain back her personal space. "But… Doesn't that mean that your plan is working?"

"Yes, that's the problem!" she cried. "I wasn't supposed to get involved… Just keep my nose in the ministry news… There's no reason to keep writing to Draco…"

Ron was startled. "Gin… You're telling me that you want to keep talking to Malfoy?" She sniffed and nodded. "And he hasn't written to you. Hasn't communicated in any way." She nodded again, hugging her pillow. "And you want him to come after you."

"I know it's stupid…"

Ron shook his head. "The only stupid thing about it is that it's Malfoy. Seriously, Gin: _anyone_ else?"

She sniffed loudly and pressed her face deeper into the pillow. "It's all got out of hand," she said after a long moment. "I wasn't supposed to get involved, I wasn't supposed to feel anything. I wanted the law banned out of principle, but… Now I'm kind of hoping it stays, so that he's forced to at least consider me. I _hate_ feeling like this," she threw the pillow across the room into the window so hard that the glass rattled alarmingly. Ron was surprised that it didn't break. Ginny gave a huge sigh. "I hate feeling," she repeated blankly.

"Um, Gin… Is that normal?"

"No," she said shortly. "But the other two males I've fallen in… That I've liked," she amended, "have both showed an alarming lack of interest in my personal wellbeing. So I decided not to feel, rather than get my heart trampled on again."

"Two?" Ron repeated. "You've always been a Harry fanatic. Who's this other bloke?"

Ginny stared at him. "Well, apart from the fact that I've had a couple of other boyfriends – you remember those? – the other guy… I was eleven, Ron. What happened when I was eleven?"

Ron looked blankly at the floor as he thought hard. Ginny's first year… His second. Oh! Comprehension dawned with blinding clarity. "The diary?" Ron said stupidly.

"It wasn't a diary, Ron," she spat. "It was a horcrux. It was part of Voldemort's soul. I spent the whole year spilling my deepest secrets to Tom Riddle, giving him my heart. And nobody but me even remembers that it happened." She folded her arms tightly and her chin fell to her chest. It was classic Ginny defensiveness.

Ron was struck by the sight of his sister. He'd seen her close up like that since she was three. The time he'd stolen biscuits from the cupboard and they'd eaten them under her bed, their mum had found the crumbs and demanded to know how she'd reached the top level of shelves. She'd closed up like this and said nothing. When Fred died, everyone had come past giving condolences and after half an hour she'd stopped crying and closed up, giving each new person a cold glare that sent them skittering on their way. When he picked on her about not being old enough to start school yet, she closed up. And he could feel the guilt at her pain settling in his stomach.

"Gin," he said, reaching over to rest his hand on her shoulder, "I remember. I'm really sorry that it was so much worse for you than me… I've really got no idea what it was like. I wish I could make it better."

Ginny grabbed her brother's hand, tears running down her nose and dripping off. Ron took that as a positive sign and wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her shaking, trying to hold in the sobs. Long minutes passed as Ron held her tightly, listening to her sniff and feeling her holding in by pure stubborn force the cries that ached to get out. He rocked her a little as she buried her head in his shoulder.

"Ginny, it's ok to feel," Ron said quietly into his sister's hair. "It's bloody scary and it's confusing; but it's living. And you do feel: you feel loads of stuff. You're scared of feeling for Malfoy, and that's ok. Merlin, I'm glad you're scared of feeling for Malfoy. But I want you to be happy. No, more than that I want you to be… healthy? Whole? Complete? I don't know the right word. Content, maybe. Even if it is with Malfoy. I promise I'll even try to be… polite.

"Gin," he pulled back to look into her face. Her cheeks were red, but she'd stopped crying and met his eyes. "I love you. You're the best sister ever, really. Despite unannounced shopping trips that bore me senseless. Despite dumping me in this marriage act law business up to my ears and matching me up with Pansy. And if Malfoy can't see that, then he's the one who's missing out. You're clever, you're determined and you're a real looker. If he's not begging to marry you within the month, then he must be as blind and stupid as I think he is. But I hope he's not," he said glumly, "because you seem to have your heart set on him.

"Now," he said, fetching her pillow off the ground, "get some sleep. What if he turns up at breakfast tomorrow?"

Ginny chuckled half-heartedly but took the pillow Ron gave her and flopped down on her bed. "Thanks Ron," she said hoarsely. "You're the best. And," she said, making Ron pause in the doorway, "it was Pansy's suggestion to pair the two of you up."

Ron gave her a startled smile. Ginny smiled back and waved him to bed. She didn't cry again that night.


	11. Chapter 11

Thursday nights were interesting. Pansy usually arrived around six, greeted Ron then turned to the rest of his family. It was like she was making up for lost time, needing to work her way so firmly into his family that nobody remembered what it was like without her there. She listened to his father's long enthused explanations about muggle technology. She did dishes for his mother and set the table, listened to her chatter away about the latest celebrity gossip. She exchanged detailed conversations with Ginny on just about any subject – although they were good at pretending that they hadn't been meeting for ages before Ron brought her home. When George visited, she needled him for his newest ideas for the shop and was happy to offer suggestions. Charlie came for the week, and when he was there she grilled him about dragons. Bill and Fleur visited for a long weekend and Pansy managed to get Bill to tell all his most exciting stories, and Fleur to share all her makeup charms and beauty tips. Even Percy managed to find some interesting stories to share and topics to discuss with her – or she was amazingly gifted in directing him towards those things without him noticing. She would look up from her conversations every now and again and smile at him, her dark eyes shining and her cheeks glowing with life. He wondered how he had never before seen that she was the most beautiful creature alive.

Most surprising, however, was when Malfoy turned up one Thursday evening at about five past six. He had worked things out with Ginny by taking her on a very expensive week-long holiday, but had never yet visited her family. Ron answered the door. Malfoy looked like he expected to be tortured to death – he was even paler than usual. "Ginny said that it would be ok if I came for dinner tonight," he said tentatively. He seemed very aware that he was on enemy territory.

"Malfoy, before you come into this house, let me get one thing clear," Ron said. Malfoy clenched his jaw but nodded curtly. "You'd better make my sister happy. No, ok, that's not fair." Malfoy seemed surprised that Ron cared if what he was expecting of him was fair, but he said nothing. Ron continued. "You'd better make sure that you're good for my sister. I want her to be content. She's been the happiest I've ever seen her these past few months, but there was a bit before that where she was the most miserable I've ever seen her. She was miserable because she thought you didn't like her. So make sure that she's never afraid of that again, you hear me?"

Malfoy stared at him. "That's it? No, 'don't hurt my baby sister or I'll kill you' speech?"

Ron shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Pain is inevitable. It sucks, but close relationships mean that you let down your guard and let the pointy parts of the other person's character prickle into you. Gin's terrified of not being wanted, though; so you make sure that she's not afraid you'll get bored and leave. Cos then I will have to hunt you down and tie you up and bring you back so she can do whatever it is she wants with you – and, I've got to warn you, I'm less vicious than she is."

Malfoy nodded. "I understand, Weasley."

"You're going to have to get used to calling us by our first names, Malfoy. There's a whole house full of Weasleys in there," he taunted.

Malfoy gave him a strange, one shouldered shrug. He stuck out his hand. "Ron?" He asked.

"Draco," he confirmed, shaking the other man's hand. "Now we'd better get inside before mum complains that I'm letting a draft in."

When Ron escorted Draco in, the room stopped dead. Ron could see a flush rising on the man's pale cheeks. "Mum, Dad: this is Draco. Ginny's invited him here."

Pansy, surprisingly, was the first to recover. "Draco!" She jumped to her feet and bustled over to kiss his cheek. "It's so lovely to see you here! You've gone and caught us all by surprise. Let me introduce you to Molly and Arthur." She took Draco by the arm and marched him into the room, charming his parents into liking the pale-haired man by default.

Ron went upstairs to find Ginny. She'd been having a shower, he assumed, and had missed the big introduction.

"Gin," he said, catching her elbow as she moved to pass him on the stairs.

"Mmm?" she said, stopping to look at him questioningly.

"Malfoy's here."

"He's what?" She squealed. "Have they dismembered him? Merlin, I was supposed to be there…"

Ron kept hold of her elbow to stop her rushing downstairs. "No, I brought him in and Pansy's looking after him. Before the night's out I'm sure he'll be as much a part of the family as she is."

Ginny stared at him for a long minute as the words sank in. "You mean… It might work? I didn't actually expect him to show up."

"I hope you didn't bet too much money on it; he arrived about five minutes after Pansy."

Ginny checked a clock on the wall. "He's been here almost a full five minutes?" She looked down at what she was wearing. "Oh, Circe, I've got no makeup on…"

Ron slid his arm through hers and cinched it tight to his side. "Come on, girl. He's meeting your family. It's nothing much to let him see your face naked."

Her face might have been naked and she might have been wearing old jeans and a canary yellow jumper, but when she stepped into the room Draco stopped mid-sentence and stared at her. Molly looked behind her at her daughter who was smiling radiantly, then over at Arthur. They shared a knowing smile.

"So," Pansy said into the silence that had descended. "When's the wedding?"

Ginny flushed and her family chuckled nervously; Draco, however, gave a loud, genuine laugh. "What," he said to Pansy, "Jealous it's not you?"

She grinned back. "Of course. Ginny's a lovely girl. If I was inclined that way, I'd be happy to take her off your hands." She wriggled her eyebrows at him and he snickered.

"Such dirty talk out of your mouth, Pansy," Draco chided. "You should wash your mouth out. With some good, strong wine. About two bottles should do nicely." He rubbed his hands together conspiratorially, a wicked smile on his lips. "And we'll give two to her as well."

Ginny giggled, pushed Draco back in his chair and sat on his lap. "Calm down, sweetheart," she said, rolling her eyes. "Who says we need to be drunk?"

Draco made eye contact with Ron, and then all four of them were laughing loudly. Molly cleared her throat and Arthur snorted, which only made them laugh longer, blushing furiously. "Well," Molly huffed. "I'll go get dinner out of the oven, then."

Pansy stood, still grinning, and went to help her. "Molly," she started, putting the beans in a serving dish and then on the table.

"I know, dear," the older woman sighed. "Marriage among purebloods is a joke. And you've known young Draco all your life. I have never gone in for dirty humour, that's all. Especially not about my children.

"But," she sighed, putting the heavy dish of roast potatoes and pumpkin on the table, "my babies are growing up. Bill's married, Charlie, Percy and George have all moved out; Ron and Ginny have steady partners. It scares my socks off, but I'm so happy for them all. I'm glad you're part of the family, dear," she said softly.

Pansy smiled deeply. "It really is an honour to be part of the family. And you know that we're not just doing this because it's convenient: I really do love Ron, and Draco really does love Ginny. Draco has a really wicked sense of humour, and I suppose I share that. We don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Molly sighed again. "They're my babies. I don't want to think about them… being intimate with anyone. You'll understand when you have children."

Pansy nodded. "I suppose I will. But, Molly – we are doing things properly. I'll be wearing white on my wedding day, and my conscience won't twinge in the slightest."

"I… didn't expect that. I'd never tell the kids, but… my conscience definitely did twinge when I walked down the isle in white. I suppose it's hypocritical of me to expect them to be more controlled than me. But I've always wanted what's best for my kids, better than I ever had."

Pansy smiled, reaching out to give the older woman a hug. "They've always had the best of everything important," she said.

"I hope so," Molly said quietly, returning the embrace.

Draco ended up seated next to Molly at the table. He didn't seem at all comfortable, and added to this was the necessity to learn an entirely new set of table manners.

"Lamb!" Went up the cry from Arthur, wielding the dish with one hand, the serving fork in the other.

"Yes!" came the exclamation from all members of the family, Pansy just helping herself as Ron took the platter. Draco seemed taken aback at the enthusiasm they had for the food.

"Beans!"

Pansy dished food onto Draco's plate before things disappeared. "If you don't claim it, Draco, it'll be gone," she warned.

"Some of everything, then," he supplied.

"You've got hands," Molly declared, holding the dish of roasted vegetables for him and handing him the tongs.

"O… Ok…" he said, scooping up a potato or two and some pumpkin. He was more generous with the lamb ("leave some for the rest of us, hey?"), and seemed taken by the beans.

"You don't serve yourself at your house?" Molly asked, returning the platter she was holding to the table.

Draco shook his head. "Our plates were sent up prepared by the elves. I'd never even seen cooking take place until I was seven and Uncle Severus insisted on cooking dinner for us…" he looked aside. There was the moment of uncomfortable silence that usually accompanied the mention of someone who had died in the war. Draco picked up his gaze and the thread of conversation. "I was sure he was making the whole thing up, actually. I'd never even known we had a kitchen."

Molly put a hand on his arm. "You poor child. I can't imagine not knowing such basic things about life."

He gave her a small smirk. Seen up close, Molly could tell that it was actually self-depreciating, not arrogant as Lucius' had always been when he was young. "Neither could Uncle Severus. He insisted on giving me cooking lessons for the next four years. It wasn't mere coincidence that I was good at potions."

Ginny smiled. "Does that mean you'll cook for us one night?"

"Merlin, no!" he exclaimed. "All I can remember how to make is shepherd's pie and bread and butter pudding."

"Better than me," Ron interjected. "Mum always shooed me out of the kitchen before I could ruin anything."

"You had a real talent for that, dear," Molly said. "It didn't matter how closely I supervised you, it always went wrong. One afternoon, he even burned a pot of water. I still have no idea how he managed that. Charlie was always the best at cooking. But Ginny has a real knack for baking. She's much better than I am, even."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hardly, mum. You've the knowledge of years behind you. I just like to put flour, sugar, butter and eggs together."

"With apples, cherries and brandy," Arthur supplied. "That cake is still my favourite, you know."

"I know, dad. I make it for you every year, don't I?"

"Yes, you do. I'm just ensuring that you know how much I enjoy it. Wouldn't want you to forget," he winked. Ginny smiled.

Draco looked from Weasley to Weasley. "You really all like each other, don't you?" he asked, amazed.

Ron snorted. "Most of the time."

"We all have our moments," Ginny added.

"But we've worked very hard to accept each of our children."

"And each other," Arthur finished, a small smile bestowed upon his wife. "Even though I love to play with muggle toys."

"And I rave about Quidditch," Ron said.

"I'm a bit of a monster in the kitchen," said Molly.

"And I'm the bossiest of the lot," Ginny smirked.

"And they have made me feel so welcome; I have more pleasant memories here than I ever had in my whole lifetime at home," Pansy said, smiling sadly at Draco.

"I'll probably find the same," he replied, sadness tugging down the corners of his mouth.

Molly wrapped her arm around Draco's shoulders, giving him a sideways hug. "You dears are such good children."

Dessert was chocolate self-saucing pudding with thick double cream. "I suddenly have much more respect for your figure," Draco jibed Ginny as he leaned back, filled to overflowing with good food.

She smiled secretively. "Draco, darling; you've no idea. Once you've gained a few pounds, you'll be begging to know how I keep this figure."

Molly snorted. "You've got your father's digestion, that's what," she said.

Ginny pouted. "You're ruining my fun."

"Watching him beg is fun?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow at her mother. After a moment, Molly turned to consider Draco. Then she turned back to Ginny. "Ok, I suppose I see how that could be fun."

Ron sighed contentedly. He held Pansy's hand under the table.


	12. Chapter 12

Ginny sat heavily in her seat, staring at the newspaper in her hand. The sudden noise caused Pansy to lift her gaze.

"What's wrong, Ginny?"

Ginny couldn't look her friend in the eye, nor trust her voice. Instead, she closed her eyes and handed the paper over. Splashed across the headlines was news of Harry Potter's upcoming marriage to Astoria Greengrass. There was a picture of the happy couple making eyes at each other in the foyer of the Ministry of Magic, where, of course, they had had to go to register their intention to marry. Every now and again, Harry turned to give a bashful smile to the camera. Pansy frowned.

"So soon?" She muttered. "Are you ok, Ginny?" Pansy asked, louder.

"I'll be ok," the other girl grated out, her eyes still closed. Pansy considered probing further, but decided against it. Ginny was very private: if she wanted to share, she would.

Instead, Pansy turned back to the Ministry announcement she was reading. Percy had continued to be very helpful in keeping them up to date with what was happening inside the Ministry of Magic. There were a few members of the bureaucracy who were agitating about the Marriage Act – five or six to strengthen it, one or two actively opposing it. This particular inter-departmental decree was calling for specific proposals and papers to be written and submitted. Percy believed it to be a way to stop the often-loud disagreements that occurred in the lunch-room. Pansy believed it to be a collecting of ideas so that the Ministry high-ups and Wizengamot officials could bring through better, more thorough amendments, complete with rebuttals against the abolitionists.

The newspaper which Ginny had handed over was crowing the victory of the Marriage Act. Pansy grimaced as she read the article and was unsurprised to note that the author was Rita Skeeter. How the woman had continued on in journalism was of constant amazement to Pansy. However, the front page article was a clear insight into popular feeling around the Marriage Law. 'Hero-of-the-wizarding-world' Harry Potter was endorsing it – even actively participating in it: it was clearly both logical and working. Pansy slapped both pieces of paper down on the table, irritated at the other woman's grief.

"Ginny, stop sobbing over Potter already, would you?" she hissed. "It's embarrassing to watch you moping over someone who left you years ago when you're dating one of the most gorgeous men in England." Ginny's eyes snapped open and she sat back in her chair, staring at Pansy. Ginny hadn't heard that tone from the other woman since she had left school. "You've literally got Draco wrapped around your little finger," the dark-haired woman continued, "and if that's not good enough for you, then tell him to stop bothering and go chase after your bloody Potter. He's not married yet, after all. But, as Draco's friend, I have to tell you that I'm not going to sit here and encourage him in a relationship with a woman who believes he is _second best_."

"What a load of bullshit," Ginny snapped, anger rising quickly over her pain. "I thought you would understand my need to grieve over someone who I believed was special to me. Draco's not second best – I wouldn't be dating him if he wasn't…"

"Grieving? I thought you'd done that back when you knew he was betrothed," Pansy interjected forcefully.

"I did. Harry's not the sort of person to get over quickly, though. I worshipped the ground he walked on for the majority of my life, Pansy. It's taking a lot to get through to my heart that he's gone forever."

"And Draco's worshipped the ground you walk on for years as well," Pansy returned, a narrow look in her eye. "Oh, he didn't tell you? He was obsessed with you at Hogwarts. It was sort of a joke between Greg, Vincent and I. One of us would bring up something you'd done during the day and watch Draco sit up and pay attention. After a while he realised what we were doing, but he just couldn't help himself. Once we were through the war and out of school, we thought he'd get over it. He didn't. All it took was a slight probing and he'd tell us all about what you had been doing with yourself. It was ridiculous. Even he realised that. But, a Malfoy always gets what he wants, and there was nothing Draco wanted more than you."

"You were jealous of that," Ginny realised out loud, some of her anger subsiding. "I had no idea. Merlin, Pansy, don't give me that look. He never let on. I'm sorry I've been whining about Harry when I've got the guy you wanted. Gods, what a mess this all is," she sighed.

Pansy returned the sigh. "No, no, I've known forever that Draco's not for me. I adored him, of course. But, truly, I've never wanted him. He's a spoiled brat, actually. It was just such a challenge to get his attention – we all strove for his attention; and you had it without even trying. You still have it, and you don't even notice."

Ginny stared at the table for a long moment. "No, you're right. I've still been crying over Harry, when, truly, I've known for years that he's not the guy for me. I just… Thought that eventually he'd believe that I'm worthwhile enough to pursue. All this," she waved at the newspaper on the table, "has been a dent to my ego, I suppose. Oh, look at me," she sniffed, wiping her eyes brusquely. "I'm a snivelling girl of eleven again."

Pansy handed over a handkerchief. "Don't worry too much; we all are under our façade of maturity."

Ginny took the white fabric and wiped her nose with it. "I should have a go at you for having a go at me for taking up with 'second best'; I wanted Harry and got Draco: you wanted Draco and got Ron."

Pansy smiled. "I didn't get second best, dear," she chided. "I got exactly what I wanted. Didn't I tell you that I was fascinated by your family from forever? And I wanted to be part of it? Perhaps back at school I didn't put much store in actually making it happen, but…" she shrugged eloquently, her small smile speaking for her.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "So, any of my brothers would have done? Because I can tell you right now that Charlie's more exciting, George's funnier, and even Percy's more intelligent…"

Pansy laughed. "I know. But, somehow, I like Ron more. Truly; don't look at me like that. Ron's more loyal, more… genuine."

"More manageable?"

Pansy gave her friend a long look. "Perhaps. But, even so, I find that I don't _want_ to manage him. I don't want to manipulate him. He's just so honest about everything. If I want to go out for dinner, I tell him so. And he'll either do it, or give me a good reason why not. The same with everything!" She looked down at the newspaper. "You can keep your high-maintenance men. Potter's got a self-esteem crisis that will take fifty years to overcome; Draco's ego needs pampering all the time. But," she said, looking up at the redhead, "Can we get back to the real subject matter?" Ginny waved a hand at her friend, indicating that she should continue. "This marriage should work to stall any attempts to strengthen the Marriage Act, for a short time at least. And it brings to our side another powerful political force."

Ginny nodded, obviously putting aside her personal feelings toward the situation. "Astoria should be able to appeal on her friends' behalf. And Ron said that Harry was horrified at the rumours of amendments that have been running around. And the Ministry has never been able to ignore Harry's opinions: some side effect of saving the world, I believe."

"There have got to be perks, I suppose," Pansy agreed. "Percy's information this month has been interesting, but not… enlightening."

Ginny frowned. "I think he finds this crusade of ours cute but of little weight. Why do men find it so hard to look forward to the future?"

"I think we need to do some serious background work," Pansy said, the corners of her mouth turning down in thought. "Each of these active Ministry workers must have a deeper reason for being vocal."

"They can't simply be working for what they believe is the greater good? Like we are?"

Pansy gave Ginny a cynical face. "We aren't in this for the greater good, dear. I'm in it because I want to be free to choose who I wish to marry, and because I want to allow my friends the freedom to choose who to marry. And I want to work for the true rights of my pureblood friends, rather than this muddy political-incorrectness that currently surrounds us. You're in it because it's your friend's fault the bloody law was introduced in the first place. Guilt, my dear, is a great motivator."

Ginny shrugged. "I like to believe I'm working for the greater good. Call it my Gryffindor sensibilities. Though, I suppose that's what Hermione was working for as well." She pursed her lips. "If I were to scratch deeper, I would probably find that the reason I'm so willing to help is because I'm afraid that people will discover that it was me who was possessed by Voldemort's horcrux in my first year, and that I'm therefore less than human…"

"That was _you_?" Pansy gasped. Ginny gave a self-conscious nod. "Merlin, Ginny. What a burden to carry. And," she wriggled her eyebrows at her friend, "Another powerful motivator. Fear."

"Must you find a devious reason for everything?" Ginny sighed.

Pansy smiled sunnily. "Of course. Because," she continued seriously, "If I think of it first, I am prepared for it. I don't enjoy being taken by surprise."

Ginny nodded her understanding. "So, background checks. And we should ask Harry and Astoria about the psychological analysis they undergo. You have a meeting with your pureblood friends soon? Good – check on how they're going. We should start asking the 'respectable' partners to begin spreading dissention amongst their friends."

"The more they're talking about it, the better for us," Pansy agreed. "I'll talk to Potter and Astoria; you begin on the background checks. You should enlist Percy and George to help you – together, they'll have the information and the cunning to help you put together proper motivations for each of those people."

"And obviously you'll encourage your friends to start their cajoling at your next gathering with them. Ah," Ginny fidgeted, "I wouldn't recommend going to visit Harry and Astoria by yourself… Harry's got a real knack for holding on to a grudge, and…"

Pansy waved away her words. "I'll take Ron with me. It'll be fine. Speaking of which," she said, checking the time on the wall clock, "I should go and get ready. Ron and I are going out tonight."

Ginny chuckled. "You do that. I'll get started on this before Draco comes and sweeps me out on some mysterious date or other."

The women smiled at each other, and Pansy wondered how these present circumstances had arranged for her to be so happy.


End file.
